


Song for Elbereth

by Grond



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Birds, Doriath, Family, Family Feels, First Age, Forests, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lost children, Magic, Music, Nature, Problematic Maedhros, Sad Children, Second Kinslaying | Sack of Doriath, Sindarin, Singing, Stars, The Sindar, The Valar, Trees, Twins, Walks In The Woods, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27157931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grond/pseuds/Grond
Summary: The Bad Elves, the strange invaders, left Eluréd and Elurín alone in the middle of a dark wood. Night is falling, and danger surrounds them. Eluréd, the elder, believes it's his responsibility to protect his younger twin, no matter how hopeless things seem. Elurín has his own ideas about hope—and how they can find safety.
Relationships: Dior Eluchíl/Nimloth of Doriath, Eluréd & Elurín (Tolkien)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 33
Collections: Doriath Week 2020, Genuary 2021





	1. Leaves of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Edited on 10/31/20 —made a few minor changes.

Once the Bad Elves left them behind, Eluréd stood frozen, watching them go until they disappeared into the shadows. Why had they gone? Were they going to come back? The wind whispered through the trees' bare branches. The gray sky spoke silently of snow. Eluréd started at every stirring in the forest, expecting to see those terrible warriors, coming back to do something awful. They had bows and swords. They smelled like metal and smoke, and they were as silent as stones. He hated them.

He was aware of a pressure on his right hand, and as it tightened, he found he could move again. He turned toward the pressure. Elurín stood there, staring at him, stock-still and wide-eyed. Neither of them spoke, but within their shared glance, they made a decision. Eluréd broke into a run. His brother ran with him, a step behind.

They moved quickly but carefully, so as not to disturb fallen leaves or break twigs. They had been taught about forest travel. They knew they shouldn't leave signs they had come through. Eluréd led the way, and Elurín followed. Their path was long: beneath the trees, through a clearing, and over a stream. He had to find somewhere to hide. Somewhere they could rest, where the Bad Elves could not see them. He did not know where. It was late in the year. Most of the trees had lost their leaves, though the evergreens still bristled with their dark crowns. This part of the forest was strange to him. He did not know what way they should go, or where they were going. They had to go away. To make themselves harder to find.

After the stream, the underbrush grew thicker and harder to walk through, until the earth rose in a steep slope above it, where the growth thinned. Not wanting to waste time finding a way around, they climbed up the slope. To keep themselves from falling, they held onto the trees that grew straight from the slanted earth. Once they crested the slope, Eluréd was drawn to a thicket of tall bushes, dense and fragrant. Its leaves were broad and gold-green and by a miracle, had not fallen. Or maybe bushes of this type did not shed their leaves. The branches grew so close together, he and his brother could squeeze through, but anything larger would find it much harder. It was a good hiding place, and the sweet scent of the leaves reminded Eluréd of Mother. He pulled Elurín in, and Elurín did not protest.

Throughout their rushed journey, Elurín had kept quiet, but once they had settled among the roots, he started to cry. He cried without sound, tears rolling down his face, his cheeks red and his breathing rough. Eluréd wanted to weep with him, but he held back his tears. They stung his eyes, but did not fall. Night would be falling soon. He stroked his brother's hair as they huddled close in the thicket. 

"We'll sleep here. They won't be able to find us." He wasn't sure if that was true, but he said it boldly, to comfort his brother. He was the older brother, if only by a few minutes. Father had told him to look after Elurín. Since Father wasn't here, it was his responsibility. 

Still wordless, Elurín nodded. Eluréd lifted a corner of his cloak to wipe his brother's tears away. Eluréd smiled in an effort to make Elurín feel better. It seemed to work, because no new tears fell, though Elurín's eyes glistened.

"The leaves of this plant are pretty, aren't they?" Eluréd had to talk about something, anything else. He had to make Elurín think happier thoughts. "I wish we could see them in Echuir. They must be so soft and golden then." 

Elurín blinked, his expression clearing. He nodded again.

"Do you know what they're called?" Eluréd wanted to hear his brother talk again. He couldn't imagine a sweeter sound right now, unless it was Mother and Father's voices calling out to them, or Elwing singing for them.

Slowly, Elurín shook his head.

"Neither do I. Maybe—we can think of a name? Something like _golden_ —" He let the sentence dangle unfinished, pausing as he did whenever he expected his brother to complete his thought for him.

"— _shield_ ", said Elurín finally.

Eluréd grinned. "I knew you'd think of it! That's perfect. _Glórinthand_. It'll keep us safe." 

"Yes, we can stay here." Elurín reached out and brushed his fingertips over the undersides of the leaves.

"For a while," said Eluréd. They couldn't stay too long. "We have to leave to find food and water."

"Oh—" Elurín started and reached beneath his cloak. He held up a pouch of soft cloth. It was green and shimmered faintly. "Mother gave me this—before." His brother's voice faltered. 

Eluréd questioned him eagerly, before Elurín could think too much about _before_. "They didn't take it away?" The Bad Elves had searched them, but they hadn't found anything they wanted to take. They must not have cared about what Elurín was carrying. "What's inside?" 

Elurín pulled the pouch open, and a new scent filled the air, sweeter and more delicious than that of the glórinthand leaves. Their eyes widened. 

Eluréd smiled, and there was no need for him to force it. "Lembas!" They had had so little warning before the Bad Elves came, but Mother had managed to give this gift to them. Without conferring, they withdrew a piece and split it in two, one for each of them. They took big bites of their lembas in unison. Eluréd sighed as the familiar, wonderful flavor filled his mouth, and he heard his brother do the same. "So good," Eluréd murmured. He had never tasted anything so good as this lembas in this moment. After all the fear and pain and uncertainty of the day, it was like being home again. _But we'll never be home again_. His gaze locked with Elurín's, and the shared thought passed between them. Eluréd's smile faded.

After the first bite, they ate the rest of their lembas portions slowly, savoring each crumb, chewing thoroughly. This was all the food they had. This much lembas could last a while, but after that… What else could they eat?

They packed the lembas away, and Elurín tied the pouch to his belt. A soft snow began to fall, making the faintest sounds against the leaves. Eluréd put his arms around his brother and wrapped his cloak around them both. Eluréd was grateful for the protection of the glórinthand leaves and the cloaks, which kept them relatively warm and dry. The last light of the Sun was fading, and Eluréd would be glad when this terrible day was truly gone, though he did not know what they would do tomorrow, or the day after that. "We should try to sleep. We'll feel better," he said. 

Elurín nodded in response. Eluréd knew him well enough to tell that a deep silence had fallen on him. He would speak again when he was ready. Sleep would give them strength and heal their spirits. Eluréd hoped he could sleep. His mind overflowed with thoughts and fears. He was not convinced that they were safe from the Bad Elves yet. He wished that he could wake up back home. When he woke, nothing bad would have happened. Today would have been one long, terrible dream.

The soft snow grew finer until it felt and looked like a mist in the air. It was soft and cool against his face. He drifted away into sleep. He dreamed. He heard Father's voice and started to run, trying to find him. He ran a long time before he saw him: far away, but close enough that Eluréd could be sure it was him. He was speaking, but Eluréd couldn't make out what he was saying. Eluréd wanted to go to his side, and hear him. Father held up a hand, and his voice rose until it was loud enough to understand. "Go back! Stay with your brother."

He didn't stop running. "But Father, we want to come with you!"

"Look after your brother. And listen to him. _Listen_."

Eluréd woke up. The night around them was completely dark. Clouds darkened the sky, but snow was no longer falling. He did not know how long he'd been asleep and dreaming. The wood was quiet, but Eluréd listened closely. Elurín was breathing softly in his arms. The leaves of the glórinthand sang softly in the breeze, and the sound comforted him. He wanted to return to sleep, but he was too uneasy.

After a long time he could not measure, he heard a voice calling. It was as distant as the voice in his dream. Every muscle in his body tensed. His first impulse was to run toward the voice, to see if it was Father or Mother looking for him, but in the dream, Father had told him to stay with Elurín. So he stayed. After what felt like another long time, the voice sounded again, closer. Elurín stirred, and Eluréd immediately pressed his fingers lightly to his brother's lips. Understanding, Elurín remained quiet and still.

" _Eluréd! Elurín!_ "

Eluréd recognized the sound of his own name, which gave him hope, but he did not recognize the voice, and made him fear. He kept his eyes on his brother as they listened together. More minutes passed in silence, and then the voice spoke again, closer yet. "Children, if you can hear me, come to me. Please."

The footsteps of this Elf were so soft, Eluréd had not heard them. Only his voice sounded in the quiet forest, so there was no way of knowing how near he was unless he was speaking. If he stopped speaking, he could be upon them before they knew it. The voice was unfamiliar, and there was an odd note in it, but Eluréd did not know the voices of all his parents' people, and they had different ways of speaking. This could be a real friend looking for them, who wanted to help them. 

Eluréd had to look. If it was a friend, he couldn't let them go by. They needed help. If it was a Bad Elf—he couldn't let the Bad Elves find them. No matter what. The Bad Elves had hurt Mother and Father. He didn't know what they had done with Elwing. Had she been hurt, too? Or had she been taken away and left in another part of the forest? He wanted to believe she had run away, that she was safe, but he hadn't seen where she'd gone. 

As slowly as he could, Eluréd raised a hand in the darkness. It had been a few moments since the stranger had last spoken. Eluréd could not say how near he was. If he had hurried directly toward the bushes, he might already be next to the thicket. Eluréd could see the faint star-glow within his own skin as his fingers emerged from beneath his cloak. He shifted one of the glórinthand leaves, then peered out through the gap in the leaves.

What he saw through it made his skin colder. The Elf stood there in the shadows, with his back to the thicket. What stood out most were his size and his hair. He was unnaturally tall, a tower rising from the undergrowth. His hair gave off a warm, red light. Eluréd did not recognize the voice, but he had seen that hair before. One of the Bad Elves had red hair like that. None of his parents' people did. Eluréd drew his hand back, letting the leaf fall and closing the small gap in the thicket. He turned back to his brother, eyes wide.

Elurín's eyes widened, too. Eluréd held his brother tighter. He would not let him go. He would not let the Bad Elf find them. 

"Can you hear my voice?" the Elf asked.

Good. If he was asking that question, he did not know how near they were. Eluréd did not want to look at him again, but the image was stuck in his mind: a tall Elf with a long fall of red hair, standing straight in the darkness, searching. Searching for Eluréd and his brother. He had hurt Mother and Father. He was the enemy. 

"If you can hear me," he said, "I am sorry. I am so sorry."

If he was sorry, why had he done it? It was a lie. How could any Elf do what he had done? Maybe he wasn't an Elf at all.

"I won't hurt you. I want to help you. I know—you have no reason to believe me."

They were trapped. They could not try to leave the thicket now and creep away. The Bad Elf was so close, he would hear the rustle of the leaves, no matter how carefully they moved. They couldn't outrun him. His legs were so long. Eluréd closed his eyes. _Please_ , he begged inwardly, _Please make him go away and leave us alone. Please make something bad happen to him. For what he did to us._ Who was he asking for these things? He was asking anyone who would listen. He didn't want to be hurt anymore, or for Elurín to be hurt.

"I am so sorry," the Elf said again, and his voice broke, which must have been a trick. "No harm will be done to you. I'll take you somewhere safe. I promise you that."

The voice was farther away now. _Make him go_ , Eluréd asked the night and leaves and the trees and the stones of the earth. _Make him go and never come back._ He felt better as he made his plea: no less afraid, but more angry, angrier than he had ever been. He wished he could fight the Bad Elf and make him truly sorry for what he had done, but he was not strong enough. He had no weapons. He only had his brother, and he had to look after him.

The next time the Elf called, he was even farther away, and Eluréd began to hope that they could remain safe in their thicket. Finally, the sound of the voice faded completely, and Eluréd breathed more easily. Yet he did not move, and he could not fall asleep. He could not do anything, aware that if the Elf crept up on them in the dark without calling out, they would not hear him coming. For the rest of the night, he and Elurín clung to each other, awake and afraid.

Dawn arrived softly, turning the leaves golden. The sky had cleared. The only clouds remaining were high, long wisps. Eluréd peered out through the leaf walls of the thicket in all directions, but there was no sign of the red-haired Elf who had hunted for them during the night. Eluréd wanted to eat more lembas, but they had to make their food last as long as possible and eat as little as they could. 

Elurín must have felt the same, because he did not suggest eating either. The deep silence had left him and he spoke without being spoken to first. "It's a pretty day," he said. He looked like he wanted to cry, but instead, he smiled.

"It is pretty here," Eluréd agreed. "But we should leave soon. We can't stay."

Elurín idly stroked the leaves of the glórinthand. "Where should we go?"

It was a good question. The rising sun told them which way was east, but they didn't know where they were now. The Bad Elves had taken them a long way, riding on their horses and calling out to each other in harsh voices only once or twice. Going home would have been a possibility, if they knew the way. Some of their people might have remained nearby—but the Bad Elves might still be there, too. They could not risk meeting those Elves again. They also couldn't stay where they were, because the Bad Elf had been here and might come back. And if they stayed and waited, how could they find help? Eluréd was silent, as he struggled to think of an answer for Elurín.

"Oh, I know," Elurín declared. The sudden brightness of his reply startled Eluréd out of his gloom. Elurín's spirits had risen with the dawn. "We'll ask Elbereth Gilthoniel to help us."

"Elbereth—" 

"Yes, Father always said that we can ask her for help, or the Lady Melian, or Lady Îdh."

"But they're not here now."

"Of course they are."

"Yes…" It was hard to argue with Elurín when he had these ideas, but if the Great Ladies were looking after them, why had the Bad Elves done what they did? Why were they lost in the woods now without Mother and Father, with nowhere to go? "You're right, but we have to do things for ourselves, too."

"We do, but the Ladies will help us to do them."

"Maybe… we'll go west," Eluréd suggested, still thinking of the Sun. "I think the Bad Elf went away to the north. It was hard to tell in the dark." Looking out from their little fortress of leaves, the forest to the west didn't look too dense, and the ground was level, as far as he could see. He didn't want to go back the way they'd come yesterday. That seemed dangerous.

"Maybe he went north," said Elurín. "North is not a good way."

"Should we go west?"

Elurín frowned in thought, as if trying to guess what Elbereth wanted them to do. At last, he said, "West."

He sounded so certain that Eluréd wondered if he knew something. Sometimes Elurín did know things there was no reason for him to know. If they both thought it was the best way, then they would go west for now. Still taking care to make as little noise as they could, they slipped out of the thicket. Before they left, Elurín turned to kiss the leaves of the glórinthand goodbye. Eluréd did the same, since it had kept them safe. 

"Someday," Elurín said, "We'll tell someone what we named it, and that will be the real name for it that everyone knows."

"You're right!" Eluréd was eager to encourage his brother's happy thought. "We'll tell everyone how good it was to us." They could still imagine a time when better things would happen to them both. It was possible they would find friendly Elves who would help them, and could protect them from the Bad Elves. Maybe they could find Mother and Father again—but Eluréd didn't want to think about that too much.

"Someone might write a song about it," said Elurín.

"You should, Elurín. You're good at songs."

"All right, I will! _The Song of Good Glórinthand_." He started to hum. Eluréd was a little worried that someone might hear the sound, but it was a low, light humming, and it cheered Elurín to make music. There was no sign that there was any person nearby who could hear them. This morning, it felt like they were the only two people in the whole of the wood, or maybe the world. Eluréd took Elurín's hand, and they set out under the branches of trees the Sun had turned gold.


	2. Star of Silver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that this story should have been wintery—but I initially gave it more of an autumnal feel. So I went back and seasonally adjusted the first chapter.
> 
> Also, the whole story was originally going to be from Eluréd's POV, but then I realized—there are two chapters, and two brothers, so why not give each one a voice?

Father often told them stories of his mother—Grandmother Lúthien—how she would dance and sing, and how the world was made lighter and brighter by the sound of her voice and the movement of her limbs. Elurín wished she was with them now. She could dance her way through the wood and find a path, the right path for them. She would lead them to safety—but she could not, because Grandmother was gone now, like Father and Mother were gone.

Father's hair was dark, but also shone like silver. Mother's hair was dark and deep as night. They said that he and Eluréd had hair like Elu Thingol's: silver as well, but so bright that it glowed. Father would stroke Eluréd's hair and tell him that he would make a fine king, if the time ever came for him to be king.

"What will I be, Father?" Elurín would ask, eager to hear the answer he already knew.

"You will be Elurín, and that means whatever you wish." Father would laugh when he said it. Elurín laughed with him, because he liked the words, and he had no wish to be king, happy to think of his brother as king and himself as whatever he wished to be—dancing and singing and wandering through the world like Grandmother. 

Now his brother _was_ king. That thought had struck him as soon as they entered the wood. The golden-green leaves of the glórinthand had framed his head like a crown. He was the king of the wood, in the wood. His was a very different kingdom than the one Elu Thingol had ruled. That first night, it was only one thicket wide. The walls of their kingdom kept them safe and well, protecting them from the cruel Invaders. 

The next morning, although Elurín still wanted to weep, he wanted to sing, too. It was strange, how a person could wish to cry and make music at the same time, but he did. Crying would upset Eluréd, so he sang instead. He was sure to keep his voice low, in case the Invaders were listening. He sang the _Song of Good Glórinthand_ , and after that, he sang _The Crown of King Eluréd_ , which was about the lost king of Doriath with his leaf crown. He sang that without words, because the words would make Eluréd sad. Elurín could only be king because Father and Mother were gone, and that would never make either of them happy. 

Whenever he felt like he couldn't stop himself from crying, he asked Îdh for her help, and he felt better. Though Father and Mother and Grandmother and Grandfather were no longer here, he and Eluréd weren't alone. He had tried to tell Eluréd, but he suspected his brother didn't believe him. That was all right. Sometimes people didn't believe him. He wasn't angry.

The day was filled with travel, interrupted by short periods of rest. Once, Eluréd was sure he heard the red-haired Invader and made them hide for more than an hour between the fallen trunk of a tree and a thick cluster of undergrowth. Elurín didn't hear anything, but he trusted Eluréd, who was better at tracking. They kept walking westward, and the Sun soared over their heads. Elurín looked up and waved, narrowing his eyes and wishing he could see the powerful Lady who bore it through the sky. He had never been able to see her through the brightness, but he still dreamed of the sight.

He had also never seen the bright figure who guided the Moon, but once the Sun had gone and the Moon showed its face, Elurín looked for him too, certain he was there. The Sun and Moon were Maiar like his great-grandmother! Maybe they would recognize him and his brother as kin. Wouldn't it be wonderful to speak to them? Their business was much too important for them to come and visit, but he liked imagining it.

When the Moon was almost overhead, Eluréd found another place to rest: a depression between two trees. The tree branches swept so low over the spot of sunken earth, they formed a kind of roof. With the hoods of their cloaks pulled up to hide the faint glow of their hair and skin, it was unlikely that anyone could see them from outside. They could make their glow disappear if they concentrated—it was like holding in a breath, and it was hard to do for a long time. It was supposed to get easier when they were older.

"Would you like some more lembas?" Eluréd asked.

Elurín noticed how he asked the question—not should _we_ eat, but would _you_ like some. "Are you going to have any?" he asked.

"No, I want to make it last."

"Then I won't have any either," said Elurín, full of love for his brother, who wanted to make sure he wasn't hungry. They had found a few nuts and seeds to eat during the day, but they hadn't been lucky in their foraging, and the plants hadn't been filling. At least they had found fresh water to drink from an icy bright stream.

Elurín held up the pouch that contained their lembas again. It was not as much lembas as they would usually take on a long journey. Mother had grabbed what she could find, wrapped it in her pouch, and thrust it into his hands. He and Eluréd stared at the shining cloth pouch, which looked so different now that it was away from its owner. Elurín wanted to cry again, so he did, but only a little.

"Did you see—what happened?" Eluréd asked after a while. They had been staring at the cloth in silence for several minutes. It was all they had left of Mother. 

"No. Mother gave me the bread, then she told me to run and hide. That was when I found you. When we hid together."

"Then—Elwing?"

Elurín shook his head. He and Eluréd did not always think the same, as they were of different minds, but when they did share a thought, they knew it. In that moment, they did: they had failed as brothers. They hadn't protected their little sister. Elurín missed her already. They had loved to sing together, and to go looking for birds. In some ways, he was as much like Elwing as he was like Eluréd. They were all happiest when the three of them were together. He had looked for her, so he could take her into hiding with him, but he hadn't found her anywhere. 

There had already been terrible noises from outside: cries and clatters of metal. He was lucky he had found Eluréd. They had hidden together, inside an old tree, but it had been no good. After the horrible sounds had fallen away into silence, their hiding place had been discovered. Those strange Elves had grabbed them and pulled them roughly from the hollow tree. Elurín had never seen Elves so angry. Yet they had also been sad. One of them had been weeping. He understood that they were angry—but why were they so sad, after they had won? 

They had not offered any explanation. They had carried him and Eluréd as if they were objects instead of people, refusing to speak to them.

"I don't know what happened," said Elurín. But he could guess at some parts of it. Oh, he wished he could not guess.

"We'll have to try gathering more food tomorrow," said Eluréd. "I don't know how long the lembas will last." He frowned, and Elurín could guess at his thoughts again. He wasn't sure if they were going the right way. They hadn't seen anything familiar, or met anyone who might offer help. It was cold, and would grow colder. The Invaders were not the only dangerous thing in the woods, and how long would they remain safe here alone? They had never before been alone for so long.

Elurín looked up. Through the tree-roof of their little shelter, he could see the stars above. He imagined they were looking down at him. Maybe they were smiling. Smiling back, he began to sing a little song:

_O Lady, your hands and eyes so bright  
Your stars are the jewels that light the night  
Elbereth, my brother and I are here  
Elbereth, please show us that you are near_

The song went on, but after the first verse, he let go of words and simply sang, letting music rise from him without binding it in meanings. Eluréd opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something —probably to be more careful and not make too much noise —but then he closed his mouth again. Elurín understood why his brother was worried and kept his song soft, even as he felt it rise up into the sky, toward the stars.

He was not singing with any goal in mind, but to pour out his feelings and thoughts in sound. He could not give words yet to the way he felt about his lost family and his fear of what would happen to him and his brother if they could not find a safe place to go. Though he had said that they should ask Elbereth Gilthoniel for aid, he was not sure if anyone but his brother was listening to him. He was only sure that he wanted to sing.

Then, the wind began to rise—not into a harsh gale, but a gentle breeze that wound around him and Eluréd. The wind was not too cold. It felt like a comforting embrace, and it gladdened him in his sorrow. Eluréd huddled close to him. They sat motionless beneath the boughs of the trees, beneath the stars, and Elurín kept singing.

He did not stop until another song began, flowing down from the trees. Then, amazement stopped his voice. The new music was bright and pure, bubbling like a brook, then quivering like a question, which answered itself with a bright, long note. Someone _had_ been listening! 

Elurín knew that music as well as he knew his parents' voices. It was the singing of nightingales. Though this was not the season for it, they were calling in night-chorus from the branches. Elurín turned to Eluréd excitedly. His brother's expression was as startled as his own. Elurín took his hand and squeezed it. Together, they watched as the birds flew down from the branches to alight beside them. Clad in brown and gray, they settled on the ground without fear. Each one of them carried a nut or berry in its yellow beak. One by one, they hopped up to Elurín and Eluréd and left their gifts before them, until the twins were faced with a heap of the small offerings, enough to make a meal of them. There were so many gifts and so many birds. They must have spent hours foraging through the winter forest, before flying here from leagues around.

"Thank you!" said Elurín, and Eluréd echoed him softly.

The birds sang again, and though their voices remained the voices of nightingales, Elurín had never heard the birds sing that particular song before. When they sang together, it almost sounded like words, although he could not make out what they were saying— if they _were_ words, they were not Elvish ones.

He and Eluréd remained still, until the birds, by twos and by threes, took flight and returned to wherever they had flown from. Almost afraid to disturb the wonderful gift, he reached out and took one of the berries in his hands. He ate it, and it tasted so tart and fresh that he blinked. After a moment, Eluréd copied his gesture, and he blinked in the same way.

Elurín laughed to see his own feelings on his brother's face. "They're the strongest berries I ever ate!" Yet the taste was as good as it was strong, and he felt stronger himself for having eaten it, so he quickly ate another. 

They did not eat all of them, but ate until they felt satisfied. When they were finished, they wrapped the berries and nuts in leaves, and Eluréd stored them carefully in his own belt pouch. The birds' visit had given Elurín a feeling of comfort and safety, such as he had not felt since before the Invaders had come to their home. "How did you—" Eluréd asked. 

"I didn't do anything. I only sang."

"Yes, you did," said Eluréd, but he did not look entirely certain.

"Remember Great-grandmother and the nightingales? It must have been one of the Ladies."

Eluréd nodded, his expression more confident. He gazed up at the sky through the thick boughs, as if he could see the Elbereth smiling down upon them. He gasped. "Rín, look!"

Elurín raised his head to see. In a gap between one of the branches, they could see that one of the stars had grown in strength and light. It was so big and so bright now, it almost didn't seem real. An impossible star! Without pausing to consider their safety, they both scrambled out of their shelter to see it better, with a clearer view of the sky. It shone like a Sun in miniature, silver light illuminating the sky to the southwest. A light in the middle of the dark. A sign. A hope.

"What does it mean?" asked Eluréd in a whisper.

"It must be where we're supposed to go," Elurín said. "Elbereth, thank you for the sign!"

"Thank you, Elbereth," said Eluréd. 

Elurín did not realize how sad they had been until he felt joy again, and saw it light up his brother's face. He took his brother's hand again, and they returned to their nest beneath the branches, where it now felt so warm and comfortable. 

"We'll sleep," said Eluréd, "and then in the morning, we'll follow the star."

Elurín was content to follow Eluréd's instructions, because Eluréd was his king. When they curled up together, he felt warmer. He put his arm over Eluréd and asked the Ladies to keep him safe. When he slept, he slept so well, he didn't awaken once.

In the morning, they thanked the trees that had served to shelter them and began to walk to the southwest, where they had seen the star. Their hearts were still heavy with grief, but their feet were lighter. They did not know where they were going, but they were going somewhere, and that was enough. The berries had refreshed them, and they came across another stream of fresh water in the afternoon, where they rested and drank their fill.

The next night, the birds came back to sing to them, bringing more small gifts for them to eat. The strange, bright star appeared in the sky again in the same place, marking the way. "I'll call her Elcheruin," said Elurín. _Star of the Lady_ was a perfect name. "Please guide us, Elcheruin, through the dark sea to safe harbors."

Eluréd took up his plea and continued it. "Let your light give us hope and lead us home."

The star continued to shine throughout the night. Every evening, they saw it, constant in its brightness. The birds did not visit every night, but he and Eluréd often heard the fluttering music of nightingales from the trees, both in the day and in the night. When they felt inspired, Elurín and Eluréd would sing their thanks to the Lady and her birds and the stars. The journey through the deep winter forest remained difficult, but the signs they had been given made it easier to bear. They still took care to hide and erase their tracks, but they saw no further sign of the Invaders — although one night, Eluréd swore he could hear the red-haired Elf calling for them again in the very far distance. Even if he was looking for them again, he never again drew so near as he had on that first night.

They journeyed through the forest in this way for seven days, sleeping beneath the strange and reassuring light of Elcheruin each night, until the evening when Eluréd suddenly cried out, "I know this place! This tree, remember?"

They knew many trees near their home, and the one Eluréd ran to was one of the more distinctive. Many seasons ago, it had been struck by lightning. The strike had killed most of the tree, but a tiny part of it had remained alive. It had sent up shoots, and now a slender sapling grew within the ruin of the old tree. Elurín ran after Eluréd and touched the bark of the sapling, to assure himself that it was real. "We are home."

Elbereth wanted them to come here. But why? Were some of their people waiting here? Were the Invaders truly gone? The Lady did not speak to them directly, so there was no way to know for certain. The Sun was departing the sky, but they were too curious to find a place to sleep. Keeping their cloaks up and their footsteps soft, they made their way toward the place that had once been home. The scent of old smoke was in the air, and they ducked their heads low to make themselves harder to see. They began to pass homes and trees where Elves had lived. There was no one living there now. Elurín did not want to investigate the empty homes, and Eluréd did not suggest it.

It was Elúred who saw the Elf first. He signaled to Elurín by tugging on his sleeve. Elurín stopped short, and then they both crouched low among the fallen leaves, staring. The strange Elf, the only living person they had seen in this place, stood alone. He was gazing at what had once been their own home. He stood so still among the trees and fallen leaves of the forest that they would not have seen him at all if not for the most striking part of his appearance.

"Silver hair," Eluréd whispered, and it was true. This Elf's cloak was thrown back, and they could see his hair was as silver as their own. He did not have the look of the Invaders, but resembled one of Father and Mother's people, even if Elurín had never seen him before. His hair glowed exceptionally bright as the light of Elcheruin fell directly upon him, setting him aglow. It had to be a sign!

"What should we do?" Elurín asked his king. 

"What do you think?"

If he was asked to advise, Elurín would not hesitate. "The star led us here, to him."

Eluréd nodded, but his hand trembled. Elurín felt afraid, too. He had faith, but he had seen terrible things and knew there was great cruelty in the world. He did not let it bind him, and he returned Eluréd's nod. They both rose to their feet.

The Elf with silver hair started and turned toward them. "Who is—" He did not finish his question but took in breath sharply and stared. "Children," he said softly.

Elurín grasped Eluréd's hand again, once more asking the Lady to keep them safe. The unknown Elf did not look hostile, only surprised. He called to them across the space between them. "Whose children are you?"

"Dior Eluchíl and Nimloth of Doriath," said Eluréd, and Elurín knew from the quiver in his voice that his brother was still afraid, even though he answered bravely.

The Elf let out a cry, that was neither a scream nor a song but somehow both. Elurín had never heard anything like it. "Children," he said, "Will you come to me? For I have known your grandmother and your great-grandfather, and known them very well."

Everything about his look and speech and the star above him told Elurín that he was telling the truth, so they did as he asked and came closer. The Elf knelt down in the leaves before them and smiled. He touched a hand to Elurín's hair, and then to Eluréd's, as if he could not believe he was seeing them and had to convince himself. "Are you all alone here?"

They nodded. "Mother and Father are gone," Eluréd said.

"The Invaders came," added Elurín. They still did not know why. What had it been for? Now their home was in ruins. 

The Elf bowed his head, as if the words weighed heavily on him. "What are your names?" he asked. "I have been long away from these lands, and far, and news does not travel swiftly."

"I am Eluréd, and this is Elurín." Eluréd spoke for them, and Elurín did not mind.

A smile lit the Elf's face. "Such fine names. You may not believe me, but a star led me here. I saw it from the east, hanging low over Doriath. I came seeking those I know, and I find them all gone. But look, you are here." The stranger's face was thin, but his eyes were large, as if he had seen things Elurín had not yet dreamed of. 

"A star led us here, too," said Elurín excitedly. 

"Who are you?" Eluréd asked the practical question.

"Oh—you're right, I did not say. My name is Daeron, and I am—I was King Thingol's Loremaster. I loved him well. Ah, but it is so good to see you. I did not think—I thought no one was left."

 _Daeron_ … That was a name he had heard before in stories, when Father had spoken of Great-grandfather's court and Grandmother's dancing. He did not think he would ever see that person, who had disappeared a long time ago. "We know you," Elurín said excitedly. "Father and Mother told us. The singer. Will you sing for us?" He was so pleased, he did not stop to think that there were matters beside singing in the moment.

Daeron laughed, and even his laughter was like a song. "Yes, I will sing you anything you like—I am so glad to find you well!"

"Do you know where we can go?" asked Eluréd, still concerned with the practical matters. "We don't know who can help us."

"Of course, children—" Daeron, still kneeling, lowered his head and began to weep, openly. Elurín could not tell if he was happy or sad or something else altogether. "I would never leave you on your own. You can come with me. You are not alone any longer. I will do whatever I can to aid you."

The star Elcheruin hung bright above them. The nightingales began to sing again from the trees, and Daeron looked up, eyes widening. "Do you—forgive me?" he asked in a low voice.

Eluréd frowned in confusion, but Elurín sensed he was not talking to them. Nonetheless, there was something he could do. Elurín took hold of his cloak. He reached up to wipe Daeron's tears away with the cloth, as his brother had done for him, days before. Daeron blinked, then smiled again. "You can come with me, if you like. This place—I do not think we can live here now."

"Where will we go?" Eluréd asked.

"Eluréd. I am not—entirely sure," said Daeron. "There are other Sindar. We will find them. We will find a place. If you will allow me to help you, my king." He lowered his head. 

Elurín was glad to see Eluréd so honored, even if Eluréd was taken aback by the gesture and took a small step back in his surprise. Elurín wouldn't speak for them both, but waited for Eluréd to decide, "We'll come with you."

"First, we should rest. We've both had very long journeys, I can tell." Daeron took their hands. He led them through the trees, away from the wreckage of their home. They rested beneath the stars, as the Elves had done in the First Days. As they took their ease, the birds descended again, with food for all of them. They ate until they were full, and they knew they were not alone in Middle-earth. They fell asleep together beneath the light of that bright star. And Elbereth was gladdened by the sight of them and smiled.


End file.
